Ai no Uta
by GamerLioness
Summary: Captain Olimar reminisces about the joy and pain associated with his first adventure on the planet inhabited by the Pikmin. Based on the song “Ai no Uta” by Strawberry Flower.


"'_Ai no Uta' (Song of Love) was an image song released in conjunction with the video game Pikmin for the Nintendo GameCube. The song was only used in commercials for the game and does not appear in the game itself, and those commercials appeared only in Japan. A small clip of the song though can be heard being sung by the Pikmin in Pikmin 2. The lyrics are in Japanese. The song is sung by the group Strawberry Flower, who also produced the theme song for Pikmin 2. The title of the song translates to "Song of Love," so named because the song expounds on the emotions the Pikmin feel in relation to their involvement in the game, and also their devotion to their given task of helping the game's protagonist Captain Olimar." –Wikipedia _

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_Day 34:_

_I will never look at life the same way again. Those jocular specimens have taught me how sacred it is. They've also showed me how painful loss can be, yet they manage to move on, their brio driving their miniscule bodies into an inevitable state of oblivion. Perhaps they're too naïve for their own good. After all, the majority of those specimens die before they reach adulthood…_

I stop typing on my desktop computer for a moment to take a sip of my coffee that's been forming a watermark on my mahogany desk. The coaster that was supposed to hold the mug to prevent the incident of ruined wood was a couple of inches away from me, but I forgot to use it like usual. Go figure. I'm your typical absent-minded scientist.

I notice that the beverage is lukewarm when the liquid reaches my tongue, as it has been sitting there for several minutes, untouched. Oftentimes I get so into my writing I forget about everyone and everything else around me. My fellow colleagues jokingly referred to me as "Bookworm" or "Cloudy," the latter having to do with an old phrase, "head in the clouds" combined with the fact that I am seen as moody when interrupted during my journalism.

I won't tell anyone, especially my wife, about the massive loss I have suffered. She doesn't know much of what happened to me on the site I crash-landed on. I merely made it sound like a romping, innocent adventure similar to an imaginative child's while in their backyard. Yet despite my concealing of the truth she suggested for me to visit a psychologist. Could she see through my guise? Anyway, I've always been like this. I ponder every detail and learn from every experience, sometimes leading to deep bouts of depression for weeks on end; it is something I cannot hide. Still, I refuse any and all outside help. I have my mind, and I have my writing. That's all I need.

We're quite the opposites, my wife and I. She becomes cheerful and optimistic just by obtaining a new piece of jewelry. What's valuable to her is worthless to me, even if it did cost her endless Pokos of my paycheck. While she shows off her new trinkets to her companions, I am slumped over my journal, sorting through every possible facet of an exciting discovery. I am truly ecstatic upon making a new find, but the euphoria does not last long because my curiosity and hunger for knowledge is never truly satiated; I'm always looking for something _more_.

Until recently, I have had no position of power; I was the slave of society, my own spouse, and most notably my workplace, Hocotate Freight Company; specifically, my boss. Where did I receive such power, you ask? On the blue-green planet. I'm not lying; such a place exists. It's an exotic faraway dwelling located in a distant niche of a strange galaxy having to do with dairy- oh yes, the Milky Way. It'd be quarantined or industrialized if any people like my boss knew about it. I can't have that happen. I must preserve its innocence. It's the only source of nature left in the entire universe that I know of. Wild insects roam free, and many invaluable artifacts are scattered across its surface. It's dangerous, but it's the biggest thrill I've had and ever will have. This planet, according to my sources, was called Earth in the distant past.

Aside from the danger of Bulborbs and other such nasty creatures, it was peaceful. The silence and tranquility of a moonlit night is an event I will never soon forget. Nothing of the sort exists on Hocotate; the night is unnatural with its glows of lampposts and nightlights for my young kids. All specimens tend to follow a daily regimen and balance of wake and slumber. But alas, my kind has been spoiled with an overabundance of light. It yields no rest, no escape. Light and dark are two sides of the same coin. Why must Hocotate ignore the other side?

I conceal a groan as my wife walks into the room. She knows how I dislike being interrupted, but she hasn't left me alone much lately. I turn around and force a smile to appear more docile than I really am at the moment. I take her hands in mine and kiss them softly, but it does not amuse her like usual. Something's wrong. I can sense it.

"Olimar, dear…" she begins, a melancholy tone marring her sugary-sweet voice. "You've been so…pensive."

"And what's wrong with that?" I query.

"I feel like you're drifting apart from the rest of us," she sighs softly.

"What do you mean?" I ask, folding my arms across my chest. "I've always been like this," I pointed out.

"Olimar, please don't be angry with me, but I…I read your journal. I know about the Pikmin, and I know how much you miss them. They died right before your eyes every single day you were on that planet, and your losses made you extremely depressed…"

"Oh," I say without a hint of emotion. In reality, rage is building inside of me. "So now you know."

She's found my secret. Why must she always pry into my complex life? I'm supposed to be the ancient scribe no one can translate. That woman is like a persistent archaeologist.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Her voice has that soft, sympathetic tone to it when she's consoling someone.

I shrug. "Complications."

She sighed. "It's always complications with you." She grabs my chin in her finely-manicured hand and continues, "Enough of this. You're my husband. You're supposed to tell me these things. It was in your vow when you married me."

I nod and decide that the time is right. And so I go on for hours and hours about everything, noticing her jaw dropping and her eyes widening with each and every detail.

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I stared incredulously at the creature, its stout red body standing upright and its blank stare piercing into me. A green leaf adorned the top of its head, and its nose was long and pointed. I took a mental note of this, and after much thought I decided to call the specimen a "Pikmin," named after my favorite and similarly-shaped food, Pikpik carrots.

Soon after, I discovered there were _more _of these creatures! My partner was now accompanied by several of its kind, and I eventually commandeered an entire army. With the blow of a whistle, they'd obediently sprint over to me, their tiny arms flailing cutely as they did so. I won't deny that the thought of collecting more and bringing them back to my planet to sell off crossed my mind. However, I had a change of heart. I pined to savor their innocence and study them for the sake of science. I could not let a single greedy Hocotatian get their grubby little hands on my keepsake. I- dare I say it- I loved them.

I enjoyed the company of each of my individual Pikmin, but I never forgot my first. It was what initiated my wondrous journey on the planet Earth, and it was my original inspiration. It now had a flower atop its head from drinking delicious nectar, and I secretly gave it the special name of "Pik." I figured it deserved it, as it had spent the most time with me. I could tell it apart from the others since it was the tallest, as it had gotten the most growth time from out of the soil, and its white petals were in the fullest bloom of all.

Along the way, I had discovered two other varieties of Pikmin; yellow and blue. But the reds were my favorite, and it was mainly because of Pik. While yellow mastered the art of rock bombs and could be thrown the highest due to their lighter frames, and even though the blues could sustain their lives in water because of their gills, I accredited the reds to being the main source of strength behind carrying my ship parts and defeating the various enemies which we encountered; after all, they did contain the most muscle.

I spent several days with these specimens whilst enjoying the trek across this world full of nature. However, I kept in mind that although this planet was beautiful, I was constantly teetering on the edge of danger. Bulborbs and other creatures scavenged the night, and I was careful not to leave a single one of my crew behind when going back to my ship. When the Pikmin fought during the daytime, I sometimes aided them by packing my own punches to get the job done quicker. I had gone days without any casualties, and I only had minor damage to my suit from getting knocked back by an enemy. Luckily, I had recovered quickly.

The Pikmin were my best friends. They were loyal, loving and sensitive. When I had awoken that day from the enemy's attack, I spotted my entire team huddling over me, their little squeals confirming their fear for my well-being and their state of ecstasy upon my regaining consciousness. I smiled and slowly got to my feet, and they cheered as enthusiastically as an entire football stadium crowd. I smiled but quickly reassumed my role of leader and ordered them to carry the bottle cap we had just found back to my ship. I walked with a slow limp, taking a delight in the Pikmin softly humming a hymn unknown to my Hocotatian ears. It was peaceful, soothing, and full of vigorous life. Only death could stop me now. But I had no idea the death of another would shatter my heart as cruelly as the death of a Pikmin would. You see, I'm not one to cry during sad movies. My wife calls me insensitive for that, but I only like to keep my serious, scientific profile. Deep inside, I house a lot of crippling fears. This was one of them.

The darkness was creeping up on my team and I, and we were ambling our way back to the Pikmin's storage components, the Onions and my ship, the Dolphin, as fast as we could. Shadows were cast on all sides, and I was slowly panicking. I had refused to let my team or myself stay here at night. Bulborbs were larger and even more numerous and ravenous at this time, and we had no chance against them, so we simply left when the sun had fully descended.

I was filled with a sense of relief when we finally reached the landing site. I blew my whistle to instruct the Pikmin to get inside their corresponding color-coded Onion, and I hopped inside the Dolphin to take off, leaving the land of darkness behind. I looked down and watched the ground beneath me shrink. Suddenly, I froze in shock. My eyes were met with the imagery of my first Pikmin, Pik, getting consumed by a horrid beast. I gasped and quivered in fury and pain. My best friend was gone in one gulp. There was no corpse, and there wasn't even any blood, so I felt that maybe this was some sort of bad dream, or that maybe Pik would emerge from the foul bowels of the beast like one of those cartoon superheroes on television that my son watches on Saturday mornings.

But then I felt like my heart had stopped beating as I realized it was truly over. A transparent spirit floated aimlessly through the chilly night air as a piercing wail echoed in my ears. Horrified, I knelt over my ship's keyboard panel and wept. Pik was like a firstborn child to me, besides the one I actually have back home, of course. But this one was special. I had raised it on my own. I had used my shaking hands to free the plant specimen from the confines of the soil. Now it was gone. It lived a life of five days total. I'm aware that such creatures tend to live much shorter lives than my own species, but I can't help but feel that it could've existed longer.

"Tomorrow is a new day," I told myself in a pathetic attempt to convince myself to not soften my image so much. I grabbed a tissue, dabbed at the watery, salty mucous running down my face from my nose and set my ship onto auto-pilot. We were not far from the safe hideout, and I had programmed the position into my GPS system, so I was now free to sit back and reflect.

The next day, the metaphorical tears dried up. I witnessed several other deaths along my adventure. Each night I cried and reflected some more. It was painful, but I never forgot my squadron. It just didn't feel right. How could one forget the loyalties of their own team? They never even _had _to follow me. They had the choice to ignore me, or even attack me like the other residents of Earth. Yet they looked up to me, saw me as a dignified figure. Did they have anywhere else to go? Did they lack direction? According to my calculations, I, Captain Olimar, gave them the purpose they so sorely desired. Maybe these orphaned plant beings found a paternal, fatherly figure in me.

Or maybe they just wanted a friend.

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I felt awkward by the end of my tale as my wife clung onto me and sobbed uncontrollably. It was the same routine she always went through upon hearing a melancholy story or watching a depressing movie. I wasn't one for outward display of emotion, but I patted her on the back for reassurance to show her that I do indeed care.

She gently pushed herself out of my grip, gazing into my eyes. "Olimar, why is it that you never discussed this with me before? I had no idea what you went through. You endured so much loss…"

"Yeah, I loved them like my children," I added, a bit irked at the mascara running down her face. I grabbed a tissue for that purpose and meticulously dabbed it off, welcoming the "thanks" she muttered in reply.

The next thing I know, the radio is turned on and we're dancing as if my work office is a ballroom.

"What is this song?" I asked interestedly, noticing that it reminded me of the Pikmin.

"_Hikko nukarete, atsumatte, tobasarete…_" the radio cooed pleasantly, leading our steps.

"Ai no Uta," she replies in a soothing whisper, "the 'Song of Love.'"


End file.
